MURDER AT NAUGHTON PHARMS
Rex Evans Wood
Copyright 2015 Rex Evans Wood
CHAPTER 1 – THURSDAY, 9:10 AM
It was mid morning before Kelly returned to Naughton Pharmaceuticals. He parked in the employee lot, grabbed his cup of coffee and lab coat, and headed for the clinical study entrance, not bothering to lock his aging pickup or even roll up the window. The forecast was for cool, dry weather, a beautiful day in Fargo.
Trevor, one of the night shift phlebotomists, emerged from the building, squinting into the morning sun. Kelly gave him a smile. "Long shift, eh?"
Trevor nodded, his weariness apparent.
Kelly feigned concern. "Is it safe for you to be out in the sun?"
"Sunscreen. It changed everything. I wish I had it back in the Transylvania days."
It was a familiar joke – equating phlebotomists with vampires.
Kelly smiled, waving as they went their separate ways. Running drug tests was often stressful, but never boring. Those who stuck with it invariably developed a sense of humor around the unpleasant jobs involving blood, pee, poop and the quirky behavior of people willing to take any pill, patch, or suppository for a buck.
The admissions area was in mid-morning form, with several prospective subjects in the admissions line, and several more in the holding pen, filling out their paperwork or watching CNN. A health screener called the next person’s name, pausing as an overhead speaker added to the din: "Bennie to receiving."
"Hey, Studley," said Barb, as Kelly approached the reception desk. Barb supervised the admissions and reception staff. She was quite a bit older than Kelly, in her mid-thirties, happily married, but joking around with Kelly – often giving him crap – was one of those things that helped make their days a little brighter.
"Morning, Barbie."
She set the appointment schedule clipboard on the counter for Kelly's review. As the clinical department coordinator, Kelly had a number of responsibilities as he worked with screeners, phlebotomists, study monitors, housekeepers and everyone else it took to run the studies. He set down his coffee and pulled on his lab coat while scanning the appointments.
"Potts is looking for you," said Barb.
"What does Mr. Charming want now?" Kelly looked up from the clipboard. "Besides you, of course."
Barb pretended to gag. "I have no idea. Mr. Not-The-Least-Bit-Charming didn't confide in me."
Kelly flipped to a deeper page on the clipboard. "Looks like we'll be okay on 158. I thought a summer weekend with a young group would make it a tough study to fill out."
"It’s the pay." Barb handed him the index of the studies.
"$800?"
"Almost double the winter rate."
It was easier, and often cheaper, to do studies with younger subjects in the winter when college kids were willing to hang out and do school work. Summer weekends in North Dakota were too precious to spend indoors getting poked with needles.
A young woman emerged from the hallway to the administration wing. Kelly resisted staring, turning back to the clipboard as the beauty spoke to a fully-amused Barb, who had accurately read Kelly's reaction. "Excuse me." The woman addressed Barb. "I'm from human resources. I'm supposed to meet Kelly?"
"Well," said Barb, as she looked to Kelly with a smile. "I guess it's your lucky day."
"I'm Kelly." He spoke before looking up from the clipboard, striking an uncharacteristic tone, that of the busy, pre-occupied professional. The act sent Barb’s eyes rolling.
"Oh, hello." The gal reddened a bit. "I was imagining Kelly as a woman."
"I get that a lot."
"I’m Jessica Gulsvig." She offered a handshake, which he accepted. "I'm your shadow; until noon anyway. Sorry I'm late."
"That’s okay. I just got here." He continued the matter-of-fact tone.
He looked back to the clipboard, paged back to the top, and then handed it to Barb. He hadn’t heard that he’d have a shadow today, but undoubtedly, there was an e-mail or voicemail waiting. It wasn’t that unusual to have a recent hire from another department tag along to see how things worked.
"Okay, well, I usually start out by checking in at the team office, but Mr. Potts is looking for me. He’s the associate director of research. Barbara, do we know where Mr. Potts is?"
"Mister Potts is conducting the C-I-C meeting," said Barb, satirizing Kelly’s officious tone, elevating it to the stuff of Masterpiece Theatre. "We expect it to be concluded momentarily."
Jessica’s gaze swung from Barb to Kelly, her knitted brow making it clear she found the exchange suspect. With Jessica not looking, Barb crossed her eyes and made her best Harpo Marx face.
Kelly, in mid-sip on his coffee, just about spewed, but managed to keep it together as he gestured for Jessica to accompany him. Jessica turned back to Barb, who abandoned the Harpo look just in time. "Nice to meet you," said Jessica.
Barb beamed, becoming again the over-the-top professional. "Welcome to Naughton Pharmaceuticals."
Jessica fell in beside Kelly as they started for the hallway.
"And Kelly," Barb called after them. "I’ll want your 5-X report, whenever convenient."
He walked backwards as he replied. "Ah, certainly, Barbara. I’m working on it." He smiled, not quite able to hold the serious façade as he continued walking with Jessica. 5-X was a joke, used in various ways to refer to study subjects trying to hook up, or to any sexual behavior for that matter – 5X stemming from the way it looked written out: "5EX."
It wasn’t surprising that Barb had picked up on Kelly’s reaction to the beautiful Jessica Gulsvig – anyone who knew Kelly could have seen that coming. Not that he was a cad, he was actually well-respected by the women he worked with, but he got around, and though not first-impression great looking, his stock improved as people got to know him … influenced by his competence, wit, and a charismatic bad-boy vibe. With tousled black hair and a casual style, he was anything but slick. Behind his back, Barb was known to call him "dirty cute." It was pretty much a given that he would go on high alert around someone like Jessica Gulsvig. Not that Kelly was aware of all that. For him, it was a simpler equation – some good-looking gals were interested, most weren’t.
At the door to the administration wing, Kelly swiped his ID over the security pad and they went inside. It was immediately quieter, the voices and television noise falling behind as linoleum gave way to carpet.
Windows in the hallway looked past decorative wooden blinds into the various offices. As they passed scientific affairs, development, and marketing, they could occasionally glimpse staffers dressed in business casual, often seated at low-walled cubicles. Jessica's human resources department was farther down, closer to the executive offices and accounting.
"So, what’s a C-I-C meeting?" asked Jessica.
"Competitive Intelligence Committee. Right now, they’d be working on ideas for the upcoming P-O-A meeting – Plan of Action. Maybe three, four times a year they fly in sales people from all around the country. Today's C-I-C is getting ready for that. The idea is to give each product something the sales staff can latch on to, some extra hook that gives them an entry point for conversation with doctors."
Kelly and Jessica slipped into the softly-lit conference room where a half-dozen men had gathered around the far end of a long table, all seated except Eddie Potts, who stood in front, facing the group. Behind him, screen-saver rectangles floated on a projection screen.
"Last one, guys. Come on, think." Potts was pacing. "There should be something we can salvage from the study." Spotting Kelly and Jessica, he acknowledged their arrival with a gesture that said, "Hold on, won’t be long." They took a seat along the back wall.
Sit
ting this close to Jessica, Kelly caught a tantalizing whiff of fragrance, perhaps her shampoo. He imagined putting his face in her hair and taking a deep breath.
Potts continued, "What about side effects?"
"Well, the worst …" began one of the attendees.
Potts winced, and held up a hand. "Let’s not remind them of that."
The others chuckled.
"How about some of the minor side effects?"
Everyone looked to an attendee consulting his laptop. "Well, there wasn’t much in the way of nausea for either one. Really nothing. And acid reflux was pretty low."
"What are the numbers on reflux?" said Potts.
"We’re at point-five percent with Taskadol, and …" He called up another page. "Looks like Finairia came in at one-point-eight."
Potts clapped his hands. "That should work. Kleiber, what’s that give us? You’re the math guy."
"That’s about a 70% risk reduction."
"Thank God. That works, doesn’t it?"
Nods all around.
"Yes, indeed. Paul, write it up. It’s not great, but at least we’ll have something for Taskadol."
Jessica leaned close. "70 percent?" she whispered. "How do they get 70 percent out of those low numbers?"
"It's called relative risk. It makes a small statistical difference seem dramatic."
"But is that ethi … ?" Jessica stopped in mid-word as Potts approached them. They stood.
"Kelleeee," boomed Potts, but his eyes were on Jessica. "Who’s your cute little sidekick today?" Eddie Potts wore a buttoned-down white shirt and a shiny grey tie. The shirt had become way too tight in recent years.
"Careful, Eddie. Ms. Gulsvig is with Human Resources. She could bust you for that kind of comment."
"Whoa!" said Potts, holding up his hands in mock fear. "Just trying to be nice."
"Mr. Potts, associate director of research, this is Jessica Gulsvig, recently hired in H-R."
"Nice to meet you, Jessica. Don’t mind me. I’m just a big, overgrown teddy bear."
"It’s … a pleasure," said Jessica, shaking his hand.
Potts turned to Kelly. "Thanks for coming by. I need your opinion. As you know, we’ve got the P-O-A coming up. Any chance we can get something useable out of that new Probax trial in time? We're suckin' air on Probax."
"The subject interviews start tomorrow, but this was a large group; the dosing was staggered over three days, so the interviewing is on that same schedule. Scientific Affairs could probably generate some running results, but the protocol won't be met. Good luck getting any kind of report out of them."
"Yeah." Potts nodded, staring off into space. "Even the raw interviews might be useable. We could do the old ‘preliminary-reports-suggest’ trick, giving it that insider early-scoop vibe." He looked at Kelly, cocking his overly-large head to one side. "Are you able to access those raw interviews?"
Kelly smiled. "Nope. The interviews are direct data entry these days, and even the teams running the study can't open those files. You'd have to ask I-T or S-A."
Potts shook his head as if to say, "Oh, I'd never do that."
Of course you wouldn’t, thought Kelly. Because you wouldn't dare make such a request, but asking me, an underling in your own department, that’s apparently just fine.
"Okay, good," said Potts, suddenly chipper. "I'll just check with Scientific Affairs and see. Maybe they'll be able to say a little something. Nice to meet you, Jessie."
Letting the name mistake slide, Jessica and Kelly left the room and headed back toward the clinical study wing. "I would have corrected him on your name," said Kelly, "but I like to keep conversations with him as short as possible."
"I understand why. And I’m quite okay with him not knowing my name."
"He's a throwback to a darker time."
"Kelly to study Unit 5, please. Kelly to Unit 5." Kelly recognized the pager’s voice – Angie, one of the team leaders. He pivoted, changing directions. "Let’s take the back hallway. Five is on the back side of the study wing. Have you had the grand tour yet?"
Jessica shook her head. "No. They've kept me busy learning the software and getting started on the HR busy work. This has been my first chance to see the rest of the operation."
The route they took had the added benefit of allowing Kelly to point out the various labs and the pharmacy, all of which were viewable through windows along the hallway. Jessica wanted to ask about the labs, and what their roles were, but held off since Kelly had picked up the pace, responding to the page.
The pharmacy also looked intriguing. Unlike a typical neighborhood pharmacy, this one featured two long tables, one of them currently in use, with employees perched on stools filling and labeling prescription bottles. Another employee loaded trays of the filled bottles onto a cart.
The end of the hall brought them to another security door, which opened onto the clinical study wing. Here the hallway was wider, but the motif of blinded windows continued. At the door to Unit 5, a short line of study subjects waited at a counter where an attendant searched purses and other luggage.
"They can’t bring in anything that might interfere with the study," explained Kelly. "Medicated lotions, extra food, cigarettes. Normally, we’re not doing check-ins this time of day, but this study involves a sleep aid, so we start dosing this evening, and we need a few fasting hours first."
Entering Unit 5, there was a sense of controlled chaos with people milling about or seated in a lounge area, or eating at two long rows of narrow exam tables. Jessica was struck by the alcohol smell and the noise – the voices, the blaring television, and the squawk of chairs sliding on the linoleum floor.
Kelly pointed out the snack bar. "They’re offered something to eat when they check in. Then they’ll fast. The tables are also where the subjects sit for blood draws and to have their vitals taken. That's why the tables are so narrow."
Kelly introduced Jessica to Angie Roberts, the team leader on this shift.
"It’s Vivian," said Angie, explaining why she paged Kelly. "She cleared screening somehow, but she’s got fresh needle tracks."
"Wasn't she disqualified a couple months ago?"
Angie nodded. "You'd think she'd learn."
"I'll talk to her," said Kelly.
Jessica walked with him toward the lounge area. "Working in H-R, you'll likely become familiar with some of our regulars," said Kelly. "I suppose about half are professional test subjects – like Vivian. She won't be able to do this much longer; she's at the top of the age range." He nodded toward a gal in her late forties, with long hair beginning to gray. She had just plopped into a comfortable, overstuffed chair far from the TV, a tote bag between her legs.
Kelly walked a step or two past her, and then stopped, feigning sudden recognition.
"Oh, Vivian. Good to see you again."
"Oh, hello, Kelly," Vivian offered a big smile.
Kelly introduced Jessica. "Vivian is one of our regulars. Comes up from Omaha. Vivian, where's your friend, Maggie?"
"She took a study in San Francisco."
"Where her daughter lives."
"Why, yes," said Vivian, appearing impressed that Kelly remembered.
"So, did you fly here?"
"Yes. Used some of my frequent flyer miles."
"Came in yesterday for screening, I suppose."
"My flight landed at three, and I made it here by four."
"Good flight? Arrive on time?"
"Oh, yes."
Kelly retrieved a chair from a neighboring table, brought it over and sat down. "Viv, the 3 o’clock flight comes in from Denver. Omaha connects in Minneapolis, and those flights start arriving after four. I'm guessing you were just at the WinCo Lab in Colorado."
"Kelly, I wouldn't ..."
"Vivian, I don't want to wash you out, but you have to be honest with us. In April, you were here for three days. We paid you well, but we had to throw out your results because of the other drugs in your blood samples."
Viv
ian's gaze dropped to her hands.
"Viv, you've been a good subject for us and we're always happy to see you, but management will black-ball you if you don't respect the 28-day rule."
"Sorry," murmured Vivian.
Kelly leaned close, put a hand on her arm. "Tell you what. You can’t participate in this one, but we’ve got another study starting tomorrow. It’s just a weekender, and it doesn’t pay as well, but at least your trip won’t be wasted. It’s a lotion study, no blood draws. They just analyze what happens to your skin."
"Thanks, Kelly."
"I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m supposed to disqualify you and report it. But hey, I’m a short-timer. What can they do to me? Go up front and tell Barb you want to sign up for 152."
They stood, Vivian thanking him again as she left.
Jessica smiled at him. "That was nice of you."
"Vivian’s cool. It’s technically against the rules to let her do a study, but it’s not likely the other trial would interfere with a lotion study. And ultimately, I think it’s good for the company. It sucks to lose a regular subject."
"What was that about being a short-timer?"
"Well, I never intended for this to be a permanent job, though I’ve been here for four years now. Started out as a phlebotomist."
"Doing blood draws," said Jessica. "I just learned what phlebotomist meant this week." She hunched her shoulders and shivered with revulsion. "I couldn't do that. I hate needles."
"I didn't mind it. I was working weekends and some nights while going to college. Then I got promoted to study monitor and went full-time. I switched to coordinator when the job came open. It doesn't pay any better, but it's a good fit for me. Without more formal medical training, I wasn't likely to get a team leader job. School became part-time, and only some of the time, but I'm finally close to finishing with a criminal justice degree."
"What will you do when you graduate?"
"Well, even before I finish, I'm going to apply with the Fargo Police Department. They don't require a degree."
"A police officer? I wouldn't have guessed."
Kelly chuckled. "No, I don’t suppose that’s the first impression I create."
"It’s not that …"
"Oh, it’s alright. Maybe I'm not what they'd be looking for, either. It's not easy getting accepted. If I don’t make the cut, there are two-year law enforcement programs I can take, but if I can catch on with Fargo and avoid those additional school loans, that would be great. There'd still be a one-semester skills course, but the rest of the training is in-house."
"Hey, Kelly." Angie approached, a manila folder and sheaf of papers in hand. "Here's one you'll enjoy. Did you see the protocol for this study?"
"Not the details."
"It's a stupid, impossible protocol. They have us taking vitals, dosing, and doing the blood draws, all at the same time."
"Is this a Naughton study or an outside contract?"
"It's ours. Padden wrote it."
Kelly shook his head. "He must have accidentally sent an early draft or something. It sounds unfinished. Want me to check with him?"
"No, that's not your responsibility. I'll talk to Mr. Dipsh...." Angie caught herself, remembering she was in the presence of a new HR employee. She glanced briefly at Jessica. "I'll talk to Mr. Padden." Angie smiled, a bit sheepishly, as she turned to go.
Kelly called after her, smiling. "You have my sympathy."
Jamie Padden, director of Scientific Affairs was a pain in the ass, an opinion widely shared. Kelly turned his attention back to Jessica. "Okay, let me show you the rest of the unit."
"If you're busy, we could do this later."
"No, this isn't bad. There's always little things that pop up. Most of my work takes place in the setup – getting everything coordinated. When the trial is underway, I maybe put out some fires and pitch in if somebody needs help, but mostly I'm looking ahead to the next study, figuring out the staffing, the schedules, and making sure the various departments and teams know what to expect." He gestured toward a hallway beyond the rows of narrow tables. "Next up, the bathrooms." He smiled. "You don't want to miss that."
Jessica actually found the bathrooms quite interesting as Kelly explained that once the study was underway, the bathrooms would be locked, with a staff member outside who would accompany the subjects into the bathroom and document events. Vomiting was always of interest and carefully recorded, and for many of the studies, the subjects were given receptacles for poop or pee, which were then labeled and sent to the processing lab.
A janitor emerged from a storage closet, spray bottle in hand. "Hey, Bennie. Meet Jessica, new in H-R."
"Hi," said Bennie, quietly.
"Nice to meet you," she replied.
Kelly put an arm across Bennie's shoulders. "Here's the real hero of Naughton Pharmaceuticals, Bennie Sandhoffer. It’s not always easy being a custodian in this place."
A hint of a smile crossed Bennie's face. He was quite a bit shorter than Kelly, but wider at the waist and hips, and his dark hair hung limply on his forehead. He wore khaki slacks and a blue work shirt, sleeves rolled up.
"Bennie handles all five study units."
"And the administration wing," added Bennie. "But I'm not the only guy."
"Bennie, I’m giving Jessica the grand tour. Anything she ought to know?"
Bennie shrugged. "No food allowed in the barracks?"
"Good rule. And the barracks are the next stop." Kelly looked sternly at Jessica. "You don’t have any food, do you?"
She held up her hands, smiling. "Nope, I’m clean."
"Thanks, Bennie," said Kelly as they took their leave.
"There are twenty-five beds in each …"
Kelly was interrupted by a woman emerging from the gal’s barracks. "Hey! There’s a guy crashed out in here!"
Kelly gave Jessica a "here we go again" smile, an acknowledgment of yet another interruption. The women's barracks had no door – just a wall that shielded the barracks from prying eyes. As they went inside, Jessica realized barracks was indeed the right word. Two rows of bunk beds lined the walls. The only other furniture was a desk by the entrance. There was nothing to offer individual privacy.
A couple of the early check-ins and a housekeeper were gathered near a back bunk. The housekeeper pointed to the bottom bed where Kelly found an older guy asleep beneath a blanket, facing the back wall.
"Wrong barracks, dude," said Kelly. He reached down and gave the guy a brisk shake, but stepped back, startled by the unnaturally stiff form. Regaining his composure, he eased the man over to reveal a bluish-gray face with duct-taped mouth. Lying there dead was Ronald Kupmeier, COO of Naughton Pharmaceuticals.